


6000 years

by moonlightdancer



Series: Happy 30th birthday, Good Omens! [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 years of friendship, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Fluff, Friendship, Historical Settings, M/M, written for the GO 30 challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightdancer/pseuds/moonlightdancer
Summary: Their friendship through the ages, from ancient Egypt to modern day Las Vegas.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Happy 30th birthday, Good Omens! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741498
Kudos: 3
Collections: GO 30 Challenge





	1. It starts in a garden

**Author's Note:**

> Another Through the Ages fic.  
> I started writing this for the GO30 Challenge, but it just started getting longer and I couldn't finish it in time, so I decided to start posting it in separate chapters... Still too late, but I'm just happy the Challenge got me writing again.  
> Hope you're enjoying it -comments are always appreciated.

* * *

**It starts in a garden**

Sometimes Aziraphale tried to recall what his existence had been like, before his posting to Earth. Being an angel, his memory was, of course, all-encompassing, he couldn't really _forget_ things the way humans did, but things that didn't matter to him much felt blurry and unrecognisable, as if it hadn't really been him, who had experienced those things. Most of his time before Eden felt like this, as if his real existence had started there.

And in a way it had. For in that garden something miraculous had happened, something he had never expected. He had made a friend.

Crowley had started talking to him and he had answered. At first out of courtesy, because, even if he _was_ a demon, it was rather rude to just ignore someone, then out of curiosity. Crowley wasn't what Aziraphale had expected a demon to be. And within the space of a few minutes he had been talking to Crowley simply because he'd enjoyed it. He had never much enjoyed talking to the other angels and had kept himself to himself mostly. On that wall, looking out over the endless expanse of sand, he had felt easy in the company of another being for the first time in his existence. A tiny voice inside his head had reminded him that Crowley was a demon and his _hereditary enemy_ , for God's sake. But, also for the first time in his existence, Aziraphale had told that voice to hush and find some other occupation than to pester him, and it had sulkily obeyed and not bothered him much since.

When the first drops of the first rain fell, Aziraphale had instinctively spread his wings over Cowley, who had moved closer and let himself be protected by the angel.

They didn't comment on it at the time and made no mention of it when they met again a couple of years later. But a bond of trust and affection had been formed and neither ever questioned it.

Sometimes decades or centuries passed without them meeting, but they always ran into each other eventually. Aziraphale wondered if Heaven and Hell deliberately sent them to the same corners of the Earth or if it was by chance their missions seemed to _intersect_ so often. Not that he wanted to complain. It had already become his habit now to keep an eye open for the small demonic annoyances that were Crowley's trademark, in the hopes of meeting him again, have a chat (you had to get to know your enemy if you wanted to thwart him, after all) and maybe a spot of lunch (he simply didn't like to work on an empty stomach).


	2. Egypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley/Crawly and Aziraphale meet at a banquet held by Cleopatra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to pick some historical settings that haven't been explored in the series.  
> And I started with Ancient Egypt, simply because I've been fascinated with it since I was a kid...  
> Comments are always appreciated :)

* * *

**Egypt, 40BC**

Night had fallen over the dusty streets of Alexandria, but the day's heat still lingered. Flies buzzing around the offerings left in a small private shrine to his left and the distant bleating of goats were the only sounds, the city had retreated into itself.

Aziraphale hurried across the street towards the palace, slightly anxious. The banquet was about to start, and he couldn't be late - Cleopatra was known to be of an erratic temper and surely wouldn't be too happy with guests showing up late. The banquets Cleopatra and Mark Antony were organising for each other were increasingly lavish, quite ostentatiously so, and the food prepared for the couple of dozen people invited would have fed half Alexandria.

Aziraphale gave his name to the guards and was escorted to the palace's atrium, where the banquet was held beneath the star-studded sky. There were already many guests lying on the couches or strolling about, chatting, but Aziraphale was happy to see that he was far from the last to arrive. There seemed to be a steady trickle of guests still arriving. Releasing a breath he had held for he didn't even know how long, Aziraphale sank onto a soft couch adorned with gems, his thoughts turning towards the problem of how to complete his mission. When he was handed a goblet of wine, he took it absentmindedly without looking up at the stranger who had held it out to him.

“So what are we drinking to, this time?”

Aziraphale's head snapped up at the sound of the voice. No stranger. “Crawly? I didn't expect to see you here.” He tried to sound displeased but failed utterly. The small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth didn't help.

“How did you get invited to this banquet? It took me months to insinuate myself into this ...this party lot.”

“Seriously, angel?” Crawly had dropped onto the couch next to Aziraphale, sprawling _quite_ lasciviously, in Aziraphale's opinion, and now raised an eyebrow at him. “ 'M a demon. I just showed up and kind of suggested to everyone that they knew me and that they had absolutely expected me to be at the banquet. Took just a tiny miracle.”

“Well. That seems a bit like cheating. I prefer to gain their trust and let myself be invited properly.”

Crawly's grin widened. “That's because you're really old-fashioned, Angel.”

Aziraphale huffed, but didn't contradict him. He tasted the wine instead. It was surprisingly good, unusually good, another tiny demonic miracle, Aziraphale suspected. Over the rim of his goblet, he took in Crawly's attire. The dark tunic he wore was clinging to his slender body as if it had been painted on, and even though Cleopatra herself was dressed up as Aphrodite and the servant girls as nymphs in slightly transparent cloth, Crawly seemed almost indecently dressed. Why that should bother him, why his heart should suddenly race, he couldn't explain, but it irked him and made him comment.

“Dear God, Crawly. Must you dress like that? You look rather undressed.”

“Never would have taken you for a prude, Angel.”

“I'm not! I merely meant that…well, never mind...”

“Relax. I'm here for a seduction. 'Course I can just hint and whisper and suggest, but I might as well look the part. Makes it more fun.”

Aziraphale felt himself redden slightly. “Of course. … I'm here for work, too. I'm to convince Mark Antony to not break with Lepidus. Only Heaven knows why...well, not exactly sure about that, actually, but I'm sure there's _some_ good reason, though I can't see it.”

“Don't say _it's ineffable_ again!” Crawly rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“I wasn't going to!” he replied indignantly and looked away. Crawly said nothing, just raised his eyebrows in mocking disbelief. After a moment of silence, that was comfortable despite their exchange, Aziraphale shot a dark look at Mark Antony, wrinkled his nose in annoyance and sighed.

“I shall have to go talk to him soon, or he'll be too drunk to even understand a word I'm saying, I'm afraid. And I haven't even had time to try the roasted wild boar! I hear it's excellent.”

When he made to get up, Crawly caught his arm and held him back. The touch of those strong hands made Aziraphale's skin tingle weirdly and he wondered, if that was his ethereal essence reacting to Crawly's demonic one. Like an allergy maybe. But it felt _nice_ , not unpleasant and he very much wanted Crawly to let his hand linger for a while longer. But Crawly had already pushed himself up into a half-sitting position and shook his head slightly.

“Sometimes I don't know what head office is getting at - this is ridiculous. You know, I'm to seduce Mark Antony? Sow discord between Cleopatra and him, divide the two glowing lovers so they start acting all erratic, making life difficult for half of Egypt and Rome. ... How are we even supposed to work on him at the same time!”

“Oh dear!” Aziraphale knew he was fidgeting, but couldn't stop himself. This was indeed a problem. They could hardly crowd around Mark Antony and compete for his attention, put all kinds of ideas into his head simultaeously. Next to him, Crawly remained seated and grumbled beneath his breath for a moment, before suddenly sliding off the bench with a fluid movement, draining his cup of wine at the same time. Then he bent down towards Aziraphale, and laid a cool hand on his shoulder. Aziraphale felt himself shiver slightly at the touch.

“I've got this one, doing both. Enjoy the food, I'll see you later.” Aziraphale just stared at him, at a complete loss for words. With a wink Crawly added: “Don't worry, I'll get your job done, Angel. Quite good at persuasion, me.”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale mumbled with a confused nod, too dumbfounded for more eloquence, and watched as Crawly weaved his way between the scattered couches towards the Roman triumvir who at the moment was positively _draped_ over Cleopatra, telling a drunken tale.

Crawly had offered to help him out, do _Heaven's_ job! He was a demon, for Christ's sake. Whyever would he do that? Aziraphale's head was spinning as if he'd already drunk a couple of bottles of the wine, not just one goblet. And why did he trust Crawly so implicitly? He hadn't even thought to protest the offer.

He spent the next hour contemplating the implications of this development, without a satisfactory conclusion, waiting for Crawly to return.


End file.
